


An (Un)civil Debate

by tsurai



Series: Dragon Age tumblr prompts [7]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Not Beta Read, Short One Shot, The Chantry (Dragon Age), Tumblr Prompt, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26921644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsurai/pseuds/tsurai
Summary: “Fuck the Chantry!”A silence descends over the room in the wake of Hawke’s shout. Varric places his cards facedown on the table, ready to heave Bianca over his shoulder at a moment’s notice, because Hawke’s tone is nearly violent.This outburst has been coming for a long time, and damn it but Varric wasn’t paying attention to the remark that broke the drake’s back, too busy fending off Isabela’s attempts to peek at his cards.
Relationships: Male Hawke & Sebastian Vael
Series: Dragon Age tumblr prompts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119719
Kudos: 13





	An (Un)civil Debate

**Author's Note:**

> kyogre-blue on tumblr prompted: ’ ….Dragon Age. Something to the tune of “fuck the Chantry"’  
> set sometime during Act II

“Fuck the Chantry!”

A silence descends over the room in the wake of Hawke’s shout. Varric places his cards facedown on the table, ready to heave Bianca over his shoulder at a moment’s notice, because Hawke’s tone is nearly violent. 

This outburst has been coming for a long time, and damn it but Varric wasn’t paying attention to the remark that broke the drake’s back, too busy fending off Isabela’s attempts to peek at his cards. 

Sebastian sputters, “W-what-” 

Hawke growls at the stunned man, standing up to lean over the table in Sebastian’s direction. Merrill, seated beside Hawke, takes Hawke’s daggers from the back of his chair and puts them on her other side, just out of his reach. 

“Fuck. The. Chantry,” he enunciates, just as angrily as he had the first time, but not nearly as loud. 

Varric’s just glad they decided to play Wicked Grace in Hawke’s mansion instead of the Hanged Man; this definitely isn’t suitable for listening ears.

Hawke tries to play his cards close to the chest, always speaking around his true feelings on the Chantry, mages, the aristocracy, and the various soirees his mother drags him to that any idiot could tell Hawke hates. That is, Hawke _tries_ , but Varric long-ago noticed the way his shoulders tense anytime someone so much as brushes against those topics. 

Sebastian opens his mouth, likely to protest, but Hawke cuts him off again. 

“I’ve tried to be diplomatic about this, but I can’t listen to another word about the ‘will of the Maker’ and the good the Chantry does.” 

Hawke’s voice has crept to a lower register, but it no longer looks as if he’s readying to spring across the table to strangle Sebastian. Varric moves his hand away from Bianca, suddenly itching for quill and ink. He settles for memorizing the conversation as best he can. 

“The Chantry has giant golden statues and marble tiles while people starve in the Alienage, Darktown, in broad fucking daylight in Lowtown. The Chantry is the reason my family had to flee our home in the night, _three times_. The _Chantry_ is the reason my sister is locked in the Gallows with the likes of Ser Alrik, under threat of Tranquility at any time! And that’s naming just a few of their _sins_.” The last word is almost wry. Hawke pauses and sucks in a breath, leaning his closed fists on the table. He hasn’t broken eye contact with Sebastian the whole rant.

Varric meets Merrill’s wide eyes when he glances around, but Fenris and Anders are both focused on the interplay between their friends. Isabela leans elbows on the table, chin her hands and obviously enjoying herself. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Hawke dares him. 

“Hawke,” Aveline starts, probably to try to defuse the situation, but Sebastian is quick to respond, his shock melting into bafflement. The accusation has obviously unbalanced him; this is the first time he’s been the subject of Hawke’s anger. 

“Ser Alrik was an anomaly-” 

“Now you’re just repeating Elthina! _‘The right of Tranquility saves lives!’_ ” Hawke practically spits, his face flushing. “I find it interesting that’s the first thing you argued. Not going to tell me it’s the Maker’s will that the poor are dying in the streets? That the Chantry can’t use a portion of their shitload of gold to actually spread that Maker’s love to the ones who need it the most?” 

“The Chantry does a great deal of charitable work for widows and children. I know you’ve seen this, Hawke,” Sebastian tries, tone conciliatory.

Varric winces when Hawke scoffs. “Fat lot of good that charity did for my family when we were eking it out in Lowtown. The Chantry sisters still won’t look a refugee in the eye unless they come with tithes in hand. The only public clinic in the entire city is Anders’ and Darktown is crawling with homeless orphans. I haven’t seen much of that charity.” 

“...No institution is perfect. The sisters do what they can with what they have, but they can’t be everywhere. I don’t understand, you’ve never been this vocal about your issues with the Chantry-”  
This time it isn’t Hawke that cuts Sebastian off, but Anders. 

“Just because he doesn’t _say_ anything doesn’t mean he agrees with the Chantry propaganda you spout all day!”

“Neither of them were talking to you, mage,” Fenris interjects, his gaze bouncing between Hawke and Sebastian. 

The Chantry brother, apparently thinking Hawke can be reasoned with, starts to speak again. 

Isabela blows a raspberry, loud enough it cuts through the growing tension like one of her knives. “As much fun as I’d have watching you dig yourself a deeper grave, Sebastian,” she gestures at the small pile of coins in the center, “we _do_ have a game of cards I was winning – I’d like to get back to emptying your pockets.” 

Sebastian’s jaw clenches, but he relaxes again an instant later, with a calm expression Varric can see right through. He obviously wants to say more – though whether platitudes or arguments Varric can’t tell.

“Very well,” he says. “I am willing to drop the subject.” 

_For now_ , is largely implied.

Hawke finally straightens, turning to walk away from the table for a few paces before he spins on his heel and marches right back. Dog doesn’t so much as twitch when Hawke steps inches away from where the mabari drools on the rug. 

“Fine,” Hawke says, finally sitting down with a huff. He picks up the cards he dropped and stares at them, not quite calm but no longer blazing with anger.

Awkward silence only hovers in the air for only a few moments. 

“Well, that was interesting!” Merrill chirps, leaning toward Isabela. “I can’t remember, is it better to have two angels and three knights, or two knights and three angels?” 

Most of the table groans and folds. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments appreciated! you can prompt me [on tumblr](https://tsuraiwrites.tumblr.com/).


End file.
